why aren’t they called horsegirls?

As I sit in the National Equestrian Center this weekend, trying hard to be a supportive spouse, but about as interested in this “Saddle Boy” Competition as a toddler in church, I looked around and realized I was the only person in this arena who brought alternate forms of entertainment. I also learned THIS…

Fifteen Reasons I Can Never Be a Cowgirl:

The only ranch I want to visit is on the salad bar.

I don’t own any belt buckles that can also double as serving platters

I was completely bummed to find out that a burro is not a deep-fried, chocolate burrito.

None of the real cowgirls keep Doritos in their holster, but darn it, I hear you get hungry out there on the trail.

Hay? Straw? Same thing, right?

Wearing a wide-brimmed hat would totally obscure your view of these great highlights in my hair.

Pretty sure there’s no wifi in Montana.

I’ve never breathed deeply and proclaimed, “I love the smell of horse manure in the morning!”

I don’t smoke. That’s not to say, however, that I’m not smokin’.

It’s considered bad form to pull a 24’ stock trailer with a Honda Odyssey.

To me, the term green-broke means I’m out of cash.

Playtex cannot possibly make a bra with enough support for me to comfortably take the girls horseback riding.

I once went to a movie I assumed was a British comedy, only to find myself watching Tobey Maguire on a horse. TeaBiscuit. That’s what I get for not wearing my glasses.

To my knowledge, they don’t make open-toed cowboy boots.

The only cow I care to ever rope better be served medium rare with a side of potatoes.

I also learned that cowgirls become mean girls when you call them “horsegirls”.